


Seven Days

by LadybugsFanfics



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pirate, Angst, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Light Angst, Light Smut, M/M, Multi, Pirate!Steve Rogers, Polyamorous Character, Polyamory, Prince!Loki, Smut, idk how good it is, idk what this is, im proud of it, its getting nothing on tumblr, pirate!reader, theres smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-21
Updated: 2020-01-02
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:15:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 15,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21767461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadybugsFanfics/pseuds/LadybugsFanfics
Summary: Prince Loki has run sick of not feeling welcome at the palace and asks to join you and your life forever. You give him seven days to try the new life, seven days to realize how much he loves you. And in those seven days, he learns to know you, and himself (and the first mate) a little better… In the end, he only has one question left to answer. Will he stay?
Relationships: Loki (Marvel)/Reader, Loki/Steve Rogers, Loki/Steve Rogers/Reader, Steve Rogers/Reader, Tony Stark/Stephen Strange
Comments: 8
Kudos: 33





	1. Day One

**Author's Note:**

> Despite the lack of response on tumblr I do love this series, it's already written and I hope someone can give it some love here, too ^_^

**PROLOGUE**

His cloak flutters as the wind brushes past him. It nips at his exposed skin and nearly drags off the hood covering his face. He wraps the cloak tighter around him, tells his rapidly beating heart he’s making the right decision. 

The night life of Asgard is full, he notes, as he walks into the market square. Most of the booths have closed shop for the evening, yet people walk in hushed whispers and loud yells across the cobblestones. Heels clank against the rough surface, his own along with everyone else’s. The air smells of booze and saltwater, of sweat and perfume. 

He walks past an open inn. Loud noises of music, games, and drinks clattering against each other in celebration fills the open streets. He rushes past, the inn being too close for someone not to recognize him. 

Moments later, the port welcomes him. The booths and a few inns exchanged with taverns and ships lining the docks. Seawater fills his nose as he grows closer. The sounds of earlier fades into the background to leave space for the louder noise of drunk sailors and maids having their fun. A smile tugs at his lips at the sound of the ocean splashing against the stones of the dock. 

A deep breath gives him the courage to walk past the numerous amounts of people around him. He avoids eye contact, keeping his head low as he weaves through the crowd. The wind tugs at his hood again. Trembling fingers pulls it back over his head. His heart beats faster, making its presence in his rib cage known. 

Finally, he sees it. 

In the dark of the night, the ebony wood that lines the ship mixes into the dark blue of the water. The masts rise into the air, sails wrapped around them waiting to be let loose and feel the wind push against them. His eyes scan the people, seeing a few walking the gangplank onto it. 

One person catches his eyes, standing at the helm. The shadow moves along the railing, looking out at the sea. Hair blows in the wind, creating the image of a captain ready to get back on the water. 

His breath hitches at the sight, and he moves his feet faster. Boots clank against the stones, a rhythm he doesn’t mean to make. He stops by the gangplank, waiting for the acceptance to be let on. 

You smile as you catch his eyes in the dark. Not the typical teasing smirk that usually spreads across your features when you meet. Not the happy one you sport when you tell him you love him. Not the sad one you have when you let him know it’s time to leave. 

_No_. 

This one is special. This smile lights up in your eyes, tells him to take those few steps aboard. Your smile is one he hasn’t seen before. It covers all your emotions. The happiness of him coming. The disappointment of him coming. The excitement for the coming seven days. 

He takes the last step onto the ship. His boot connects with the ships wood, making that one sound he has been dying to hear. Your hands are clasped behind your back. You stand straight and, despite the smile on your face, the authority reeks of you. 

He likes this new image he can see. 

He doesn’t regret it one bit that he asked the question. Seven days is what he has to prove that he can survive on a pirate ship. Seven days to prove that he does love you. Seven days to prove that, even if it’s hell on Earth, it’s hell on Earth with _you_ and he wants to spend every moment in your presence. 

Seven days to prove himself worthy. 

**DAY ONE**

Compared to what Loki is used to, everything about the little food he got tastes stale. He drowns the bread down with a glass of wine, and it _still_ leaves his tongue dry and itchy. He’d gotten an old apple at the side, too. ( “A little something on me since it’s your first day,” was what the first mate had added when the man placed the apple next to him. He’d given him a tight, _fake_ smile and patted his back a little hard.)

The apple tastes nothing like apples are supposed to. The usual juicy and sweet bite he expects is bitter, dry and soft. His first reaction would be to spit it out and demand another, but he can’t do that now. He swallows the bite, pinching his eyes shut at the sour taste, and takes a sip of wine to drown out what lingers on his tongue. 

And then he repeats the process until the whole apple, save the core, is gone. His shoulders slump and he takes the last of the wine in one big gulp, in a desperate attempt to completely rid of the dry aftertaste of the apple and the bread that remains in his mouth. 

“Easy there, bud,” says a voice behind him, “wouldn’t want you to down everything on the first day.” 

Loki turns his head. Behind him stands a male clad in a loose shirt and a pair of pants―no shoes. The man has unusually well-groomed, brown hair and a goatee. He smiles at Loki, a lopsided smile that doesn’t really tell Loki anything other than let him know this man might not be of that much importance. 

“I’m Tony,” he says, “most people ‘round here call me Stark.” 

“I’m Loki Odinson, the―” He cuts himself off before he says his title. Not only did he get on this ship to escape that life, it also holds no authority. Maybe he should have dropped the Odinson? It would be an easy connection. 

Tony nods. “I know, everyone knows. Welcome aboard _Vicious_ _Storm_ , prince. Don’t expect special treatment.” He smiles, or smirks? “Or, maybe you should?” 

“Stop bothering him, Stark.” Your voice drags Loki’s attention away from the man in front of him. You stop at Loki’s side, a small smile on your lips as you divert your gaze to Tony. The man does a salute, which has you roll your eyes. The smile stays, though. “Go do something useful.” 

“Will do,” replies Tony. He smirks as he walks down to the other end of the ship. 

Loki looks to you. “What’s in that direction?” 

You widen your eyes, as if you realised something. “Oh, you don’t know where things are yet.” You shake your head. “Down that end you find our surgeon, Dr. Strange. Would recommend saying hi to him every once in a while, though the man doesn’t talk too much with anyone but Stark.”

“Why?”

“Oh, you know, he doesn’t really want to be here.” You shrug. “But, that’s not why I’m here now. You done eating?” 

Loki nods. 

“Good.” You nod. “Come with me. Gonna introduce you to some people, though I hear you’ve already met Rogers?”

Loki makes a grimace at the sound of the first mate’s name. “It is not something I would like to repeat.”

You chuckle. “I’m not even sorry when I say that that’s gonna be hard.” You take Loki’s hand in yours, dragging him up from where he sits and with you out into the sunshine that bathes the main deck. 

You walk over to the end (it’s the rear since it has the wheel, right?―Loki notes to learn more about what things are called). In a huddle stands five people, talking and laughing with each other. You cough to get their attention and they all stand up straight.

“What the hell are you doing?” you ask, a frown coating your face as your gaze drags over the five people saluting you. 

The first mate relaxes, shooting you a smile (and winks at Loki). “You said to have manners. Ain’t this manners?” 

“This,” ―you gesture at the other four who all relax back into normal postures― “is not what I talked about.”

Rogers smiles. “Sorry, I tried my best.”

You roll your eyes, but an amused smile plays on your lips. Loki finds he rather likes the look in your eyes, only he wishes it wasn’t directed at the first mate―he tries to drown the sting in his heart at your playfulness with him, but he can’t deny the jealousy that comes with you being close to someone as good looking as Rogers. 

“Anyways,” says one of the other men, “why’d you ask us to meet you here?” The male is bald, with a dark complexion Loki hasn’t seen with many other’s of the crew. He noticed a few, but for the most part, there are crew with the same pale, white skin as he himself has.

“Yeah, I want to introduce you.” You nudge Loki a little closer to you and the group, hand still holding onto his. He’s grateful to rely on some of your strength. Being in a different environment than he’s used to makes for interesting jabs at his pride and confidence, jabs he hadn’t thought would come when he’d asked to join you. 

“Loki, this is Wilson. He’s our pilot.” Loki hides his surprise as the man holds out a hand for him to shake―the first one to do so in the little time he’d been aboard the ship. He takes the man’s hand, giving a curt nod to the smile the male sends him. “Bet you’ll get along, at least a little.”

The next person is a male with longer, brown hair that flows around his head and lands past his shoulders. Loki notes that one of his arms is metal, but he decides not to comment and makes a mental note to ask you later. “Barnes.” He doesn’t hold out his hand, but gives a nod which Loki returns. 

“Welcome aboard _Vicious Storm_ , my _prince_.” The red-headed woman makes a mock-curtsy, looking up at him through her lashes with a bright smirk. The men around her snicker. Loki makes no reaction. 

You roll your eyes. “Mature, Nat, mature.” 

_Nat_ stands up. She gives Loki a more genuine smile, which he returns with a tight-lipped one (that gives away his ‘poker’ face). “Call me anything but Romanoff and I’ll make sure you regret it.” 

Based on her tone, Loki believes her. “Noted.”

“Clint,” says the male next to Romanoff and holds out a hand for Loki to shake. The man, though with a slightly lighter brown shade, has the same styled hair as Tony. Clint also has a goatee, though less prominent. Loki takes the man’s hand and shakes it. He returns the grin Clint gives him, though a little hesitantly. “We’ll be best friends, promise.”

Loki glances at you, and you roll your eyes with a small smile. Of the four he’s been properly introduced to, he has to admit he likes Clint the best. 

And then he turns to the first mate, who eagerly holds out his hand for Loki to shake. “Steve Rogers,” he says, a wicked grin coating his (stupidly handsome) face―jawline covered with a full beard that suits him very well, and longer, blonde hair slicked back (he looks too well-groomed for a pirate). 

Loki, who was raised with manners, takes Rogers’s hand and shakes it. The pressure is slightly harder than Wilson’s and Clint’s, but surprisingly lighter than Loki expected. Rogers leans in, the wicked grin still on his lips. His breath is hot on Loki’s ear. “Please, call me Steve,” he whispers and pulls back. 

You and the four other people raise your brows at the first mate’s behaviour. Loki tries to steady his beating heart (to be honest, Steve gives him a …weird and almost frightening vibe). 

“Okay,” you say, “that was… I don’t know what that was but I ain’t gon’ ask either an’ now we’re gon’ go before more happens.” You tug on Loki’s hand―the one that has been holding onto his this whole time it’s weird you haven’t pulled away by how clammy it has gotten―and Loki swallows the lump in his throat as he pulls his gaze away from Steve. 

As the two of you walk, Loki takes a glance back at the group. Steve looks after you and Loki, and the other four whisper with each other whilst looking at Steve―had that behaviour been that odd? Loki vows not to be alone with the first mate.

_Ever._

—

He’d noticed the smell when he’d first stepped on board the ship. The mixed stench of human sweat and rotting fish, an odor that gets a little better at the main deck where the breeze filled with the smell of sea can take away some of the vile one that hurts his nose. 

It’s first now, bored to death as he leans against the railing trying to tame his queasy stomach that he really notices it. Loki can’t say it helps very much to how he’s feeling. 

He swallows the little that makes its way up his throat, though quickly regrets it as it only heightens the feeling and he leans over to rid himself off it. His throat hurts as he uses his sleeve to wipe away the excess. 

“We’ve all been there, buddy.” Clint pats his back and nods. “Heck, most o’ us are still there. Does get a lil’ better, but everyone’s emptyin’ their guts every now and then.”

Loki swallows―something he quickly regrets―and rubs his temples. “I have to admit, when I asked I thought the worst part would be the blood and gore, not… sea sickness.”

Clint nods. “Trust me, thought so, too.” He gives Loki a tiny smile. “But instead o’ this, what’cha say to a round? Got some mates up there, bettin’ some good money. And I’ll give you somethin’ to wash that taste down with.”

“A round of what?” 

A mischievous glint lights up in Clint’s eyes. “A round o’ whatever.” He winks. “Won’t give up an opportunity to beat Rogers, now would you?”

Loki nods. “He’s playing?” 

Clint nods. 

“Well, lead the way.”

They make their way to the helm (Loki asked you what the back with the wheel is called, the answer; the helm). Where he got introduced to some of the crew earlier in the day, is now a group―bigger than the five he was introduced to―sitting in a ring. In the middle he sees a pair of dice. 

“Ey, look who decided to join.” The first mate smirks in Loki’s direction and makes room for him to sit down next to him. “Time to place our bets, gentlemen.” Steve winks at Loki and looks onto the crowd around him as Loki sits down in the space made for him.

Everyone holler out a number between five and nine. Loki keeps his mouth shut, not sure what they’re playing. Steve picks up the dice and rolls them, creating a total of seven. A few men groan and move out of the circle to stand and watch. 

The remaining men holler out another set of numbers. Steve rolls the dice again. Five. Two of the men move out of the circle. There are five men left, each holler out a number. Steve rolls; eight. Two men remain in the circle. They give each other a wicked grin, and yell out a new number. 

Steve rolls the dice. As they spin around on the deck, the silence is deafening. The wind brushes past Loki, nipping at his cheeks. It makes his hair flap around him, annoyingly slap his face. He tucks it away, eyes still glued to the dice that come still on the ebony wood of the deck. 

Nine.

Both men groan and glare at Steve, who shrugs with a smirk. “Hand it over, boys.” His voice is cocky, too arrogant for someone surrounded by a gang of annoyed pirates. But, Steve himself is a pirate. And the men pay up, putting down different sets of things in front of Steve. 

The first mate picks some of the things, putting them in his pockets and then pushes the rest of the heap into the center. “Play me for it?” 

Loki is well aware of the little glance the male gives his way, as if the question is directly meant for him. He nods as the men come back to form a new circle. Everyone hollers out a number. 

Steve rolls the dice. Eight. Loki keeps his place, though he suppresses the smirk he wants―so he doesn’t have that good a poker face, this is rather a game of luck. 

They holler out a new number. Steve rolls. The dice spins on the deck. Stop. Six. Loki can feel the tug of his lips as he lets his shoulders fall down. 

They six men seated in the circle holler out a new number. Steve throws the dice; eight. Loki can feel the glares stare daggers in his back; already heated by the scorching sun the glares only add to the feeling of finally being somewhere else. 

They’re three men left now. All three yell different numbers. Steve rolls the dice. One lands quickly at a four. The other spins, and spins, and spins. It loses momentum and Loki can see the number it’s going to land on; one. Subtly, he flicks his wrist, giving the little extra it needs to fall on the two he needs. 

All eyes land on him as he lets the smirk color his face. Steve shakes his head, though if Loki doesn’t see hallucinations he believes he saw the hint of an amused smile before the man went back to his rather teasing look. 

“Who won?” 

Loki perks up at the sound of your voice. 

“Your toy,” replies Steve, though nothing layers his voice as Loki would have thought. 

As he sorts through the pile of garbage they played about, Loki can feel you roll your eyes behind him. He smiles and, finding something of value, he leaves the heap and stands up. He turns to you raising a brow in his direction. 

“Having fun?” you ask.

Loki smiles. “I will be in a moment.” A little ‘ooooh’ goes through the crowd of men as he takes your hand and tugs you with him. Newfound energy can do a lot. 

Also, he would rather have you in his arms where he can trade the rotting stench he’d forgotten a little with your smell. He wishes to trade the sound of grown men groaning at losing a game designed for them to lose, to the sound of your voice hoarsely and breathlessly whispering his name. 

So far, he’d made the right decision. 


	2. Day Two

Cold wind wakes Loki. He’s drenched in sweat, his heart pounds and his throat feels dry. The cover has fallen off, lying at the end of the bed. Your side of the bed is empty, cold. The imprint of your body lingers behind, a lasting effect of body warmth. 

Loki finds his pants on the floor under the cover. He drags them on in one swift motion and lets his bare feet hit the wooden planks of the cabin as he tightens them around his hips. The planks creek under his weight, feels cold against his skin, but he moves along either way. 

The door is slightly ajar, letting in streaks of light from the moon high above in the dark night. Loki pushes it open enough to slip through and lets if fall back to the little opening it had. 

You stand by the mast, eyes cast out over the black ocean and the starry night that envelops the ship. Against the darkness of the night, you stand out with your white shirt and the sparkling silver and gold in your ears. Moonlight reflects off them, basks in the depths of your eyes and creates an image of beauty Loki wishes never to forget. 

A quiet wind washes over the deck, blowing through your hair. Loki takes in the slight tug of your lips as it brushes your skin, takes in the shift in your eyes. You look calm, content. 

You look the opposite of what he sees when you’re ashore. Instead of the wary feeling of lurking danger, you look light and relaxed. Shoulders down, head leaning against the mast with a dopey smile on your face and eyes that stare into the nothingness of the night. 

With light steps, he traces his way to you. He hoped to be quiet, to make his way there without taking away the serendipity of your expression, but even as you move your head to the side and glance at him, the look remains. Loki smiles as you open your arms in greeting. 

Stepping to you, your arms snake around his torso. Your head leans against his chest instead of the mast, and he slowly begins to stroke long fingers through your hair. In the silence of the night, standing there with you, Loki feels content as well. Just this way, the night feels like it’s everything, and despite knowing there are other people there (still awake and on duty) it feels like it’s just the two of you. 

The silence stretches on for another few moments, until you break it, voice dipped low and barely above a whisper. “How do you like it?” 

He contemplates his answer. The question is open, letting him tell you anything he wants, good or bad, about his first day. However, you didn’t ask if he likes it, you asked how. Standing there in the dark with you, he has his answer. 

“So far, it’s the best choice I ever made,” he replies, “and I don’t believe that to change.”

You let out a small laugh. “Maybe I’ve been too easy on you.”

Loki shakes his head, tugging a little extra on your hair to tilt your face up so he can gaze into your eyes. They spark together with the grin that colors your face. “It’s the best choice, whether I have to hate your first mate or not.”

“Ahh, Rogers’s getting on your nerves, huh?” You nod, letting your head fall back down to lean against Loki’s chest and watch the ocean’s life beyond the ship’s railing. “He has a thing for doing that. Means he likes you.”

Loki shakes his head knowingly, lets his gaze fall in the same direction as you. His eyes trace the steady rhythm of the waves, the small splashes that makes against the ship. Small drops of saltwater rains down on the deck that, every now and then, finds Loki to land on. 

“Can I ask something?” His voice sounds like an echo of his thoughts. 

“‘Course,” you reply, though the same layer of absence comes through your tone. 

Loki takes a deep breath, testing the words in his mind. On his tongue. Formed on his lips. Before he says them. “How did you end up here?” 

You tense in his embrace, and he chances a quick look down in fear he made you uncomfortable. Yet, you only look up at him with a small smile, shoulders relaxed. Your arms comes up to cup his cheek, drags his face down to meet yours, and you press a chaste kiss to his lips. “It’s a long story,” you mutter against them. 

“I have time,” he whispers back. 

You press another quick kiss to his lips. “Good.” You shift in his hold, making to sit down on the deck instead of standing. Even in the shift, you still lean against his chest and as you start to talk, his fingers keep grooming through your hair. 

“I was born on a stormy night. On a ship, just like this.” You take a deep breath. “My father was a sailor turned to the pirate life from necessity. My mother had run away with him a year earlier, from a family of merchants. When I was born, the storm ruined the ship, splintering the wood in such a way that a plank pierced through my mother. That is the only thing I know of her. 

“My father managed to save me. With the captain of the ship, who blamed my mother for the disaster as women bring bad luck, we escaped in a rowboat. To land, my father departed from the captain and set out for a straight life. It was hard, and eventually, he joined another crew. Stark’s father was the captain, and Tony and I grew up together on the ship. Only, I hid as a boy, which lasted for a long time until I started to develop. 

“One day, our ship was attacked by kingsmen. Both my father and Stark’s died. The captain and the first mate. The second mate was a man who hadn’t enjoyed mine or Stark’s presence. Both of us were kicked off as he took charge, despite the crew’s protests. And we were forced to live on little food and the shelter we were provided by kind people. 

“After a year, we set out together to try our luck. I hid my gender, and flew through the ranks of the ship to first mate in two years time. During an attack from an enemy ship, our captain died and I took over. My first order was to reveal that I was a woman, something easily done by flashing my breasts. There were surprised gasps and I told them if they had a problem, they needed to leave. 

“Most did. Except for Stark, and doctor Strange. He never wanted to be here in the first place, but he seemed not to want to leave, much less when I revealed my true identity. We renamed the ship, made changes and set out to find a crew. 

“Here I am today, still captain and with more respect than any other captain of the Seven Seas. Of course, this is leaving out every bloody aspect of it. If you ever need those, I’m not the one to ask.”

You fall into silence, one Loki does not wish to break. His heart beats loudly within its cage, and he tightens his grip around you as he places a kiss against your forehead. You sink closer into him, eyes closing as your hand traces across his chest. The sensations tingles Loki’s skin, and he lets a smile play on his lips as your breathing deepens and your hand falls limp at your side. 

With the energy he can muster, he shifts and picks you up. Carefully, he makes for your cabin, and pushes the door open with his foot. He puts you down on the bed, getting the cover from where it lies at the end of the bed. Loki lies down next to you, pulling you into his chest and letting his eyes close and the night floats away. 

—

The boy looks at him with wide eyes, mouth agape and fascination written across his face. “Really? You met other kings? Were you supposed to marry some other princess, too?” 

Loki nods, though the memory is not one he likes to remember. “I did,” he says eventually. “But I promise, princesses are not what they are told to be.” 

Peter nods understandingly. “Why?” he asks. The genuinity of his voice catches Loki off guard, but he still does his best to answer, without being too mean to the ones he’s met. 

“Most of them are rather spoiled, probably same as I was. And many of those I met were mean-spirited, all favoring my brother.” He chuckles slightly, though there is no happiness in the laugh. Loki shakes his head, and see you talking to Steve on the main deck, a smile on your face despite the teasing glimt in Steve’s eyes. “I only have one princess I like anyway.” 

The kid turns around, following Loki’s gaze to where you stand. He turns back, a fond smile on his face and nods. “You really like her, don’t you?”

Loki nods. 

“Mr. Stark told me you were her toy, but he also said you aren’t like the others. He said you’re special.” Peter nods as he talks, yet presses his lips together as if he said something he wasn’t supposed to. With the look of a kicked puppy, he meets Loki’s gaze. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.” 

But Loki doesn’t mind. He knows there have been others. He knows you can’t only have him, at least not when he wasn’t traveling with you. Even if it does sting, he still asks. “Could you mention some of the others? What am I measured against?” He shoots the kid a smile, just to let him know he said nothing wrong. 

It has Peter light up. “We can’t talk too loud, because both Mr. Stark and Dr. Strange told me not to tell you anything, but you’re asking so I think it’s okay.” He leans forward, closer to Loki and lowers his voice to an almost whisper. “Most of the ones she’s been with, I don’t know the name of. They weren’t special, and she doesn’t take a lot of them on board, or really no one unless they already are here.” 

“So, the ones you know she’s been with are part of the crew?”

Peter nods. “That’s why some aren’t too happy with you being here. You’re competition, though only to those that haven’t gotten the pleasure. But, anyways.” He waves his hands in the air, looking much more comfortable and casual compared to when they had first started to talk. “The one you’re really asking about is Mr. Rogers, right?”

Loki presses his lips together, but he still nods slowly, reluctantly. 

“I can tell you, yes. He’s probably been the most frequent.” Peter nods with a little grimace Loki supposes is him thinking it through. “I’ve also seen Mr. Barnes, and I believe I saw miss Romanoff once, but I’m not certain.”

“That’s alright. I didn’t ever expect anyone to tell me.” Loki smiles at Peter, though he knows it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Thank you. Now I know who I can confide in.”

Peter nods. “Yeah, well… there’s one more thing.” 

Loki cocks a brow. 

“The captain asked me to help you to your job. She said you have to find your place in the crew, and that you have to start where anyone new does.” 

The way Peter looks away from Loki, and shrinks in on himself, has an uneasy feeling travel through his veins. “What does the job entail?” 

“You’re gonna work in the bilge, emptying the water that fills it that doesn’t reach the pumps. It fills up every now and then, and there’s always someone going down there. It’s been me many times.” Peter hides away a little more, waiting for Loki’s reaction. 

However, the prince doesn’t give the one the boy expects. He sighs and looks back in your direction. You laugh, leaning against the railing and looking out over the rest of the crew. Steve talks beside you, and Loki knows you’re listening, but he can’t help but smile when your gaze meets his and your smile widens. His heart beats faster and faster, and he doesn’t care that he has to empty water from the ship. 

_Anything_ is worth it with you by his side. 

—

_Anything_ is _not_ worth it with you by his side. 

Bare footed, pants rolled up to his thighs and shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows, Loki wades in the water. The bucket he holds stinks, the wood of it rotten. He’s been there for longer than he can count (he lost count somewhere after the first two bells). 

Outside, the sun settles down on the water’s horizon. He can feel the sweat wade down his back, and make his hair drape to his forehead. Even if he doesn’t regret coming along with you, he does regret not just being your lover. He would rather spend the days in your cabin, reading a book, or maybe get to know more people of your crew. 

Footsteps comes closer to where he is, and moments later he hears you call for him. He can hear the smile in your voice as you tell him he can stop and get some food. 

Moments later, he finally gets to sit down at a table with you. Salty meat and a bottle of rum he shares with you sits in front of him. The table is shared with Steve, you, Stark, Dr. Strange and Barnes. Loki wishes he could change Steve with Clint, but it’s not something he can control. 

“So, how was it, _prince?_ ” ask Stark with a smirk. 

Loki sighs. “Could be worse.” 

“Really now?” Steve studies him with a cock of his brows and a teasing glint in eyes. “Then you could do it again, right?”

You snicker at that. “How did you react after your first time, Rogers? Wasn’t it you who said the job was the easiest here and that if you were stuck doing it the rest of your life, that would be okay?” 

The table laughs at that, even Strange. Loki has the feeling the doctor might just be shy, or maybe not a people’s person. He makes a mental note to talk to the doctor alone sometime, ask him about what it’s like here. 

Steve’s face goes red, and he shoots you a glare. “I don’t have to, do I?” he asks, and though it sounds a little like a statement, Loki finds the question in it. You have the final say. 

“Right now I’m considering you two doing it together. The only ones except the kid that doesn’t complain about it, and the kid doesn’t for another reason than the two of you.” You press your lips together, taking a bite of your food. 

“Retaliation,” says Stark, “and against the first mate of all people.” He shakes his head and glances Steve’s way. “We already know it’s bad for you, but this has to make it even worse.”

The glare the first mate sends Stark’s way makes Loki realize the implication of the sentence. His gut churns at the thought, but he also has to suppress a smile knowing you’re his, and no one else’s.


	3. Day Three

Loki finds you at the helm, speaking in hushed voices with Wilson and Barnes. The three of you look out to the sea, up to the clouds. It’s as if the distance can speak to you, though it is Barnes that speak up. 

“I warned you two days ago. Now there’s no avoiding it.” 

You nod, face contorted into a thoughtful expression. “Okay, we’ll have to do the best of it.” Your face eases, and you look up at the two men. “Wilson, get the help of the men you need. Everyone’s already informed so you should only need to tell them what to do.”

Wilson nods. “Aye, aye, captain.” 

You and Barnes look after him as he moves. With a shake of your head (and a very loud sigh) you turn back to Barnes. “How long do we have?”

“Not long. Half a day.” Barnes shrug. “Is gonna be a long night.”

You sigh, nodding slowly. “Counting on it.” You take a step closer to the railing, holding your hands there and letting the wind blow your hair into your face. “I need Rogers. Can you get him for me?” 

“What for? He hasn’t been much help lately.” 

“Doesn’t matter. I need his head to get straight.” You shake your head and glance back at Barnes. In the move, you catch a glimpse of Loki. He tries for a casual wave of the hand, but fails. “I’ll talk to him about it.”

Barnes gives a curt nod and walks away. 

“Oh,” he stops in his tracks, “if you find the kid tell him he’s got the job he doesn’t want.” 

The man gives another nod and walks away, giving room for Loki to step into your space. He lets his arms wrap around you from above. You lean against him, closing your eyes and intertwining your hand with his. 

Neither of you say anything. You let the breeze caress your cheeks, let the drops of water travel down your arm without the slightest knowledge they’re there, and let the sounds of the crew working and the waves crashing against the hull become a melody for the background. 

“I need to ask you something.” You turn around in his arms, sparkling eyes glancing up at Loki. He moves his arms to hold you in place, leaning against the railing. 

“Ask away.” 

“You have to stay in the cabin.” You give a slight smile. “Guess that’s not a question.” 

Loki shakes his head. “No, it’s not. Is something wrong?” 

“We’re gonna sail into a storm. According to Bucky, it’s a big one. We’ve been making preparations, but you have no experience. I need you to stay inside.” Your voice is stern, yet small and regretful. 

“Okay,” he replies. “I can do that.” At least, he thinks he can. He’s not sure. Knowing you’re out on deck, during the storm and without him to look after you (not that you need him to), scares him. He doesn’t want to leave you alone. 

You tiptoe up and plant a soft kiss on his lips. It puts his tense shoulders at ease, giving his worries less room. He has to admit that this new side where you act like a couple (almost a little like his parents), it makes him think that he made the right decision. If he got the chance to take another path, he never would. This is where he’s supposed to be. 

“Hrrm hmm.” 

The cough comes from behind them. Loki turns to find Steve there, cheeks red and gaze everywhere but at the two of you. His shoulders are up to his ears, his jaw clenched and his lips pressed tightly together. 

“Rogers,” you say, though your voice has another layer than just saying his name. Loki isn’t sure exactly what it is. 

Steve looks up. His eyes land on you first, then flickers to Loki. He diverts it back to you again, jaw unclenched but lips still pressed tightly together. He straightens his posture, gives Loki another glance, and lets out his breath. “You called for me?”

You take Loki’s hand and gives it a squeeze. The touch and gesture has Loki’s heart skip a beat, but he tries to not live it outside the comfort of his mind. You let go of his hand as quickly as you took it. 

“We need to talk.” The softness of your tone, the one you had moments before with Loki, is gone. Replaced with authority, you show Steve who has the higher command, and the handsome man nods in understanding. 

He casts a glance at Loki. One lingering glance that has Loki’s gut twist and flutter, but the moment it’s gone so are Loki’s feelings. He gazes after you and the first mate as you walk away. 

One thing he didn’t think would happen in the same place as you, was not seeing you. He thought that being there with you, he would see more of you, get to know more of you. But it turns out he was wrong. The job of a captain is a lot bigger than he first thought. 

–

It’s the rumble overhead that has Loki jolt in his position on the bed. He never saw the light, but the rumble was unmistakable. He stands up, closing the book and putting it down on the bed. With light steps, he walks over to the porthole. Light cascades in, but with a glance outside he can see that won’t last for long. 

He smells the ocean outside, basks in the taste of fresh air that flows in from the open window, and listens to the crashing waves, the creaking of the ship and the few distorted shouts from on deck. Your voice can be heard, but the words are inaudible. Loki takes a deep breath and closes the window. Based on your previous warning, he doesn’t want to flood the cabin with water because he didn’t close it. 

A sigh leaves his lips as he walks back to the bed. He finds a comfortable position and opens the book to where he left off. 

After about two lines, he gives up. His mind scrambles the words, blurs out the lines, and twists their meaning. He can’t get his mind to cooperate. Looking out the porthole, he got the sense of the storm, he got the nightmare that it brings to his mind. 

The thought of you standing on deck as rain pours around you. You standing on deck as the waves crash against the ship with such power that you fall. You standing on deck, alone, cold, hair draping to your face and shirt stick to your torso. You standing there, uncomfortable, barking orders and doing everything you can to keep the ship from falling apart as the wind rips across the deck, taking with it heavy belongings that haven’t been fastened properly, and hitting you or crewmates. 

He hasn’t talked much with the doctor on board, but he knows he trusts him. Yet he can’t help but let his mind wander to the place where everything goes wrong. 

Before his mind can properly realize what he’s doing, he’s opened the door and walked onto the deck. His bare feet pads across the wooden floor, taking him to you without any set of hesitation. The wind has started to pick up, scraping across his cheek in harsh blows and bringing with it drops of water that pounds against his face. 

When he gets to you, he plants a kiss on your cheek. “Is anyone but me confined to their cabin?” he asks, the prince in him showing up. He doesn’t sound like a lost puppy asking, or a child that doesn’t know where he belongs. He sounds like himself. 

You nod. “The doctor.” 

Loki turns to leave, but you take ahold of his wrist and bring him back. “It’ll be okay. It could be worse.” You give him a reassuring smile and kiss him. Your lips press to his urgently, hard and roughly. Loki lets his hand cup your cheek, brushing some of your hair back and noticing how cold you are. 

There’s not much he can do, so when you pull away, he presses another quick kiss to your lips. He falls away, eyes locked with yours and takes in the sight of your sad smile. He knows you want to be reassuring, but he doesn’t think anything can help him now. With a last glance, he turns around and makes for the doctors place. 

Even if he hasn’t been there before, he knows the way. He walks with determined steps. The cold doesn’t bother him, and when the wind falls away as he gets on the lower deck, his mind just goes to how cold your cheeks were. How red they had been. All he wants is for the storm to be over, for him to be able to hold you again and warm you up. 

He almost wishes you were on land, so he could draw you a hot bath. But instead, he’s going to sneak an extra bottle of rum on his way back up. Alcohol can easily get you warm, and he knows you love to drink it. 

Loki stops a few feet away from where the doctors cabin is. In front of the door, stands Stark and the doctor himself. Their hands are clasped and the look on Strange’s face has Loki think back to his own expression wishing you good luck. 

The two look around, quickly darting eyes around them as if on the lookout for someone catching them in the act. Neither of them seem to notice Loki, and he tries to look away from the obvious intimate moment, but he can’t. Their lips meet in a hurried and desperate kiss. They don’t say anything more, but pepper in some extra pecks, before Stark slips away. 

He brushes past Loki on his way up. Only gives him a slight smile, almost as if saying thank you. Loki tries for a reassuring smile, but he’s not sure it comes across. Either way, Stark walks past him with another smile, and Loki moves to greet the doctor, who stands in the doorway and steps aside to let Loki in. 

The door closes carefully behind them. Loki finds a place to sit and the doctor sits down across from him. Neither say anything, rather let the silence carry on. Or, silence would be overrated. Loki focuses on the creaking of the ship, the same crashing waves as before, only stronger and more forceful. He focuses on the clatter of boots against the deck above them, on his breathing, on the way the ship sways back and forth with more force than before. The seasickness tries to catch up with him again. 

“This isn’t a perk, is it?” 

Loki looks at Strange. His eyes study Loki, creased brows and a tilt of his head. “No, it’s not.” Loki drags a hand through his hair, the long looks gracing his neck as he lets go. “How do you… how do you sit through? Not doing anything?”

“I don’t. Most of the time I get someone down here, needing help.” He sighs. “Helps take the mind off.” 

“How long have you been with Stark?” 

A smile graces Strange’s lips. “A long time. He’s the reason I’m staying.”

Loki frowns. “You’ve been offered to leave?” 

The man nods. It’s a slow nod, one that tells Loki there’s more to it than that. “Stark told me once, when he was here because of an injury, that he could help me out, if I wanted. He could convince the captain.”

Loki only smiles at that. Few can convince you of anything, but you had grown up with Stark. It wouldn’t surprise him if Stark is one of the few that can. 

“I told him no. I couldn’t leave.” Strange takes a deep breath. “I didn’t say this, but I couldn’t leave knowing I would leave them to suffer should something happen. There are many stories of the pirates of _Vicious Storm_ , many stories of her captain. Most tell the tale of a man, some tell the tale of someone unknown and unlike anything. But everyone repeats the same words; you won’t ever leave alive.” 

Loki nods. He’s heard most of the stories. Whether you’re a pirate or not, _Vicious Storm_ is something you’ve heard before. 

“I knew that Stark was telling the truth. He could let me go without consequences. But I hadn’t been there long. I was afraid. Though she’s been nothing but kind.”

“She is.” 

Strange lifts his head, gaze looked back on Loki’s face. “You’ve still not seen her in her true form. Fighting, barking orders, basking in the sea breeze with the coldest eyes you’ve ever seen. It’s a magnificent look.”

“When it’s not for you, I believe that.”

“No, even when it’s for you. Most attacks we’ve had, I’ve been down here. But there has been an instant were I was on deck. It started with their mockery of her sex, and ended with them saying it was an honor to die by her sword. No mockery, no mention of her sex. Only, ‘ _is an ‘onor to die by a true pirate’s sword_ ’.” 

Loki presses his lips together. It rumbles up ahead as he tastes the words the doctor spoke. He has heard the tales, heard the stories and the words spoken of the captain, spoken about _you_ , yet he’s never heard the words ‘true pirate’. 

“Have you ever seen her during a storm?” 

“She knows what she’s doing. I bet, with the help of her crew, she can get through this. I wouldn’t worry.” 

Loki gives Strange a smile. “Thank you. I don’t know what I would do if I were to be alone in the cabin. I might have done something stupid.” 

“Thank you. Now Tony doesn’t worry about me thinking too hard on what’s going on up there. Company can always be helpful during hard times.”

They both give small smiles. The stoic expression the doctor has worn before is off, replaced by something akin to trust and kindness. Even if he can’t be up there with you, getting to know if you’re okay, if the ship’s okay, if the crew are okay, he can at least be down here, reassuring himself as much as another person who needs it. 

Company is never overrated when it’s the right kind. 

His thoughts are interrupted by a blinking outside. Through the porthole, Loki can see the light strike down somewhere farther away. The rumble takes a few moments to follow, but it comes sooner than he would like. 

His gut stirs with nervousness, but all he can do is hope for the best. All he can do is trust you. All he can do is try to put his mind at ease. 

So he does. Though he’s not sure how well it works.


	4. Day Four

No one seems to know when or how it happened. The storm is over, lasting shorter than originally presumed. Everyone helped with the little extra that needed to be done. Securing storage that had been flung around, changing the sails back to the actual sails and not those for storms, getting back on course even though the ship hadn’t strayed a lot. 

Loki was exhausted, using his energy to help you do the small stuff. You had put him on storage duty together with Steve and Barnes. He was both exhausted from securing it, but also from Steve’s incessant quipping. Neither Loki nor Barnes found it amusing. 

And then comes the screams from above. Or shouts and yells. Your voice reaches them on the lower deck, and all three scramble up to the main deck to see what’s going on. Everywhere around them are men, swords drawn and pointed at various members of the crew. Most of the crew’s swords are drawn. 

Loki’s gaze travels across the many men and finds you pinned to the mast, two men with their swords pointed at you. Your hands are empty, yet Loki can see that your sword is on you. 

“We would like to talk to the captain.” The voice bellows across the ship, and comes with a familiarity Loki can’t place. The man it belongs to steps across the deck, through the crowd of men. His back is turned to the three men that came up the stairs, but Loki still recognizes him. 

One of his brothers trusted guards, Volstagg, makes his way towards the mast, towards  _ you _ . His big frame makes enough sounds for the eyes of most of the crew to stay on him. “I ask again,” he says, “who is the captain?”

You straighten up where you stand. No expression colors your face as you step forwards. The two men with their swords pointed at you move closer. In a swift move, you knock both swords out of their hands and point them at their owners. Their eyes go wide as you step between them, turning your back to them. Only, you don’t. 

Loki isn’t sure how, but two heads roll across the deck. 

Volstagg stops one with his foot. His head leaned down to look at the face, and then he lets it travel up and land on you. A mocking laughter fills the air. The big man leans backwards, holding his stomach as the laughter rings out. His men join him. 

But neither you nor your crew make any sign of anger, hurt or… actually, everyone is with a perfect poker face. 

The laughter dies down. Eventually, Volstagg takes another glance at you. Even just seeing the back of the big man’s head, Loki knows his gaze travels from the bottom to the top. 

“You’re the captain?” he asks. There’s still a hint of mockery in his voice, but it’s mostly faded. 

You nod. “Does that matter?” 

He shakes his head. “I suppose not. We are here for Prince Loki of Asgard, second heir to the throne.” 

A smile graces your lips then. This one has clear mockery, mockery of Volstagg. “I’m not sure why you expect to find a prince here. Do you know what ship you’re on?” 

“A pirate ship.” 

The smile widens. It doesn’t reach your eyes. They remain cold, emotionless, yet glinting with something. It doesn’t reach your body. Which remains standing upright, light feet and a straight back (which doesn’t give the taste of you being able to put up a fight, but you’ve already proved that you can). 

“Ever heard of  _ Vicious Storm? _ ” 

Volstagg looks around him. His face turns enough for Loki to see him swallow, to see his gaze travelling. He looks afraid. Then he turns back, and probably nods. 

“Well, welcome aboard.” 

The visible change in expression falls across the entire set of men standing on the deck; the  _ Vicious Storm’s _ crew’s eyes all glint, whilst Volstagg’s men all gulp and tighten their grip on their swords. 

Volstagg takes a small step back. “You’re lying.”

“I am?” You frown and shrug. “You wanna chance it?” 

“Give us prince Loki and we will let you go unscathed.” Volstagg straightens his back and draws his sword. Its large silver frame blinks in the sunlight. He points it at you, confidence returned. The drastic contrast between the two of you makes Loki’s stomach turn, yet he knows the outcome. Only one of you will come out alive, and he’s willing to put money on you no matter how strong he knows Volstagg to be. 

You discard the two swords you took from the now headless men. They fall to the deck with a clatter and if Loki wasn’t great at paying attention, he would have missed the slight flinch in Volstagg’s posture. 

At his side, both Steve and Barnes have drawn their swords. Their eyes are trained on you and Volstagg, but Loki’s sure they’re ready for anything else around them. All three wait for your signal, but it doesn’t come. You stand there, armorless and the one weapon (visible) on your body, is still sheathed. 

You shake your head. “We got no prince aboard. Wrong ship, prob'ly.” 

Volstagg goes in for the stab. You take a step to the side, sending the big man toppling after his sword. As his back is turned to you, you draw your sword. A thin needle compared to the massive one Volstagg carries. He turns back to you, so fast and with no sight to where your tiny sword is perched it snits his neck. Blood trickles down as he sees the wound. 

He lunges and misses as you step to the side again. To the side where the sword cuts across his neck and instead of regaining his balance, the man loses grip of the sword and falls flat down on the deck. A pool of blood forms around him. He doesn’t move. 

The men who followed Volstagg take the cue to charge, and the fight erupts around Loki. Steve and Barnes both charge in and the bloodshed starts around him. Loki, despite being pushed to the middle of the deck with swords clinging on every side, has no weapon except exposure. 

His eyes travel around him. To one side, you fight off every man, all with the mockery on their lips until your sword has pierced through skull, heart or limb, or all three. Next turn, Barnes and Wilson fight side by side with better teamwork than any of Volstagg’s men. And more and more around him. Steve, though, is gone from his sight. 

But the man that charges his way is not. Nor is the word that falls from his lips, “ _ prince _ .” It’s loaded with venom, with hatred, with the same tone he’s gotten all his life from his father and brother. 

The tip of the sword closes in on Loki. A glint in the eyes of the man who holds it as Loki only stands still. His feet won’t move even though his mind screams at him that he will die if he doesn’t. Yet, all he can do is hear the rapid beating of his heart; feel the sweat coating his back; taste the iron of blood on his tongue; and watch as the male advances. 

Loki topples over as something hard hits his side. He catches the fall with his hands. Pain shoots up his wrist, making him grimace. However, he’s more interested in knowing what hit him. He rubs his wrist as he turns to look.

Steve stands where Loki stood. His shirt ripped in a line where blood trickles down, and the sword that was meant for Loki lies discarded on the deck coated in a thin line of blood. The first mate’s own sword is jammed into the neck of the male who had every intention of mercilessly killing Loki. Blood runs down the hilt, spreading over Steve’s hand and down his arm. The male drags the sword out, making more of a mess than was already there. 

“Try not to get killed,” says Steve as he throws away the lifeless body of the man. The look he sends Loki is mixed with annoyance and something Loki can’t pinpoint. He’s about to mutter a thanks―thought that does sting his pride―but Steve has rejoined the battle before he can utter the words. He’s left to contemplate why the first mate would save his life, only he can’t contemplate for long as a group of three men comes his way, all with wide grins―though seemingly no weapons. 

Loki finds his mind. He moves on autopilot, twisting his hand. Green webs shoot out and hit the three men square in the chest. All three stagger back as Loki makes a circle with his arms and conjure daggers in both (why did he decide not to wear them here?). They charge again. 

He ducks under a fist aimed for his head and shoots a dagger into the armpit of the man. Dragging the dagger out he blocks a kick and stabs the middle man in the eye. It comes with as he pulls out and trips the other guy. Before either of them come to their senses, the wind ripples and projections of himself appear in a circle around the three men. They charge for each their own, exactly at the points where they run through the holograms and spear themselves on swords. 

The magic falls away, leaving Loki a little drained. However, he keeps it up as another man charges his way. He keeps from more magic, needing more energy to manage more. But he has his blood covered daggers. 

How long goes by, he doesn’t know. The time is spent ducking, jumping, hitting, stabbing and avoiding. He has never spent much time in battle, never needed to. Every kill feels like a way to tell his father, his brother, and his brother’s friends that they were right. Yet, what else can he do? 

He’s fighting for his life, he tells himself. Fighting for a freedom he’s never felt before but with a little taste, will never let go. He’s fighting for  _ you _ , for a chance to spend the rest of his life with you. He’s fighting for your crew, for a chance to get to know them better. He’s fighting for Stephen, for his happy ending with Stark. 

He’s fighting for himself and everything he couldn’t do before that he can now. And he’s fighting side by side with people that have actual values―somewhat distorted values, but better than the royal family of Asgard. 

“You can fight,  _ prince _ ,” says a voice at his side. He glances to find Romanoff. “Maybe I judged you wrong.” She punches and twists her way through the men, in moments taking out three. Much faster than Loki did earlier. 

Too focused on the impressive woman before him, Loki doesn’t manage to dodge the sword that comes for him fast enough. His wrist, the same as he caught himself with earlier, graces the blade with enough pressure to draw blood. It’s not much, but it flows down his arm. With his other, he throws the dagger into the man’s neck. The force knocks him off his feet and he twitches on the ground until Loki drags it out and slits his throat.

Blood oozes from the wound, creating a dam around the lifeless body. He watches for a second, letting the small breeze flow through his hair and grace his own wound. It stings, shooting pain into the rest of his arm, but he bites it back. He needs to focus, after all, there are men worse than him. 

He turns around, facing the mass of people fighting. The swords clinking together creates a rhythm, the shouts across the ship adds to the melody and so does the quiet sound of the wind and the waves. 

Loki lets green fall from his fingertips. He wraps it around his wrist, letting the green create a sense of sheet to keep him from bleeding more. At least he doesn’t have to rip his shirt. 

With newfound energy, he charges back into the battle. His thoughts drown out by the shouts and yells, by the waves and the wind, by the swords and boots. Wisps of green emanates from his fingers and with practiced skills, he shoots created daggers at nearby enemies. 


	5. Day Five

It stings as Stephen applies an ointment on Loki’s wound. The doctor hands him a bottle and turns to find something to wrap it with. “Apply twice a day. If you don’t the only consequence is a scar, but if I were you, I would think about what it would mean to get one. Should you decide not to stay, you don’t want one.”

Loki holds the bottle in his hand. His fingers trace the paper wrapping it, though he doesn’t know what it says―he knows the language, but the word is one he doesn’t know the meaning of. “What makes a scar a problem?” 

Stephen sighs. “Most here, they don’t care about such. A scar means they fought and won. For you, it means you were put into danger you shouldn’t have been in. You’re a prince, whether you’re in Asgard or not, and that means something ashore. It could have consequences for someone other than you.”

His thoughts stray to you. Sparkling eyes. Radiant smile. How you look content as the sea splashes onto your face, eyes closed and always with a deep breath that shows how much you love your life. And the knowledge that he could hurt you by showing he had been hurt twists at his heart. He couldn’t do that, couldn’t put you in any more danger than what you have living the life you lead. 

“Thank you,” Loki says and closes his hand around the bottle. “I know the wound isn’t much compared to some, but…”

“Your wound is plenty. I’ve seen worse and I’ve seen less,” replies Stephen. He lets out a sigh and sits down in the chair across from Loki. “Believe me, sometimes Tony is the worst.”

Loki nods. “Not taking care of himself? Making himself less valuable than he is?” 

Stephen nods. “It’s like he doesn’t understand that someone can care for him, yet he keeps making sure I do not get into trouble. He keeps making sure I know my worth even when he waves away his own, the worth he is to me.”

“She’s the same.” He traces his fingers over the text on the bottle. “Every time we’ve met in the past years, she always had a new wound, a new scar. Something to show we had not seen each other in a while. But whenever I asked, she would laugh, she would say something acknowledging the gap between our positions in society. And she would change the topic to one where we aren’t compared.” 

“They seem to have very little regard for their own lives, but when it is our lives questioned, they don’t hesitate to worry.” 

“Exactly.”

“You really want to bet, Steve?” you ask the first mate, who leans against the railing next to you in a manner all too relaxing for Loki’s taste. 

“Yeah, why not?” he replies. “Should get my money’s worth for once.” 

Loki takes the last step toward you. The difference in reaction to his presence is stark. Where your eyes sparkle and shine at the sight of him, Steve presses his lips together and avoids looking his way. 

“Now, what if we see who won the bet, huh?” You wink at Loki as you smirk at Steve and Loki wishes to always see you like this; happy, content, and in charge in ways he didn’t even think were possible before. 

Steve shakes his head, but you nod and turn your smile to Loki again. “Love,” you say, “do you, despite your differences, think Rogers here to be a handsome man?”

There’s a pained expression on Steve's face, but in yours there’s only asking. Loki wonders if there’s something more behind the question, maybe something he doesn’t want to know. 

Loki turns his gaze to the first mate. He lets his eyes travel from Steve’s shoes, up his muscled legs with thighs that makes his pants look awful tight (in a good way), and up his torso that does the exact same and especially twists Loki’s gut at the little display of chest by the neckline where the shirt has been left untightened. He lets his eyes travel up Steve’s neck, where he can see the man’s adam’s apple bounce during a swallow, and up to his beard and his blonde locks and his pink lips and his blue eyes and… Loki’s gonna stop watching Steve now before his thoughts are shown in his pants. 

He nods and shrugs. “I’d say he’s alright, yeah. Why do you ask?” 

“Haha,” you say, the triumph clear in your voice, “told you.” 

Steve shakes his head and regards Loki with a… Loki can’t place the look, but it is highly unlike the teasing one he’s been giving for the past five days. Maybe Steve saving him yesterday had done something? Or had Loki become intimidating after showing his magic? 

He isn’t sure, but he quite likes this squirming side of Steve. Maybe the first mate has something to him Loki never thought possible? 

Loki shakes off the thought and turns his attention to you. He takes a step closer and welcomes the arms you wrap around his torso. He will never get tired of you leaning your head against his chest, never tire of your breath on him, never tire of the butterflies that spring to life at your touch. His fingers start to tread through your hair, and even if he thinks the sight makes Steve slightly uncomfortable―the dude is practically squirming (more than before)―Loki has no intention of letting you go. 

After two days of worry, he has found his place. Maybe that’s just as your lover, but either way, that’s his place. 

Steve coughs a little for your attention. You cock your head towards him, and raise a brow. 

“I just… Are you coming along ashore? I know Stark and Barnes are going, and some of the crew you’ve assigned tasks. Are either of you coming along?” 

The smile grows on your face and a small laughter rumbles out. “Yup. I think both of us. We’ve all got some need to stretch our legs on land now, I think. If you see Stark, tell him to bring Stephen and the kid, and if you see Clint tell him he’s staying with Nat ‘cause I don’t trust the other shitheads here with that.”

Steve nods. “Aye aye, Captain.” He mocks salutes, which draws a small laugh from you, and then leaves. 

Both you and Loki follow the man with your gaze as he walks down to the lower decks. Loki smiles and turns his gaze back to you. “I’m starting to like him more and more, if I’m being honest.” 

You scoff. “You only like the fact that he’s practically stopped teasing you and become more or less afraid.”

“You might be correct, darling,” replies Loki, “but do tell why he’s afraid.”

“Oh, you know, the basic that he’s catching feelings he didn’t think he could catch. You know, before he met you he’d never met a prince, always talked bad ‘bout ‘em. Now, he can’t stop talkin’ ‘bout how amazing you are.”

Loki shakes his head. “I think you might be wrong.”

You smile and tiptope up to press a kiss to his lips. “‘M sorry, love, but I’m not. The dude’s fallin’ and I think he’s fallin’ hard. Just ask Barnes, they grew up together.”

“A little afraid of Barnes, but I’ll try.” Loki cups your face and captures your lips in a kiss. He smiles into it, and he can feel your smile, too. “But before that, and before we dock, let’s use the time we have, huh?”

You laugh. It’s this melody in Loki’s ears and he smiles at the sound. And taking it as a welcome sign, he sweeps you off your feet and carries you back to your cabin. He’s gonna take every minute he can get of time with you. 

There is little crowd at the port. A few docked ships lines the bay, none as big as _Vicious Storm_ and all with no visible crew. Stark, Stephen and Peter already left with a list of things to buy (Stark as the master carpenter knows best what needs to be fixed), and Barnes and Wilson left with a list of errands. 

You, Steve and Loki stand at the main deck. You and Romanoff in the middle of a conversation, and Clint chatting with Loki. Steve stands a little off to the side, and the change in his behaviour the last couple of days has become obvious to more than just Loki, and he’s about to ask Clint about it when Barnes and Wilson walk up the gangplank. 

“You got to do everything?” you ask them as they move to your little group. 

Barnes nods, only gives a smile and walks over to Steve. The two walk a little ways from the group, and Loki tries not to let his curiosity show. Instead he tries to focus on Wilson’s voice as he relays some of what he and Barnes did. 

“―and I’m not too sure the prince should go.” 

_That_ catches Loki’s attention. He looks to you, who only looks at Wilson to have him explain. 

“The news on the street is a prince kidnapped by pirates,” he says. “Doesn’t say who the pirates are but it does say ‘prince of Asgard’.”

Loki curses his father, curses his brother, and a small ache in his heart at the thought of his mother. He looks to you, and, though there is a slight hint of worry in your eyes, the question on your face lets him know it’s up to him. 

He nods. “I want to go,” he says.

You nod. “I guess that’s it then. You guys hold the fort?” 

Clint and Romanoff nod. 

“Rogers!” You swirl around to face the two talking off in the short distance. The two turn to face the group. “Gotta get going. I wanna leave before the sun goes down.” 

A few moments later, you, Steve and Loki walk down the road to the market. It takes a few seconds before the first yell is heard; “Breaking news! Breaking news! Prince of Asgard kidnapped by vicious pirates.” 

You look to Loki. “Put your hood on, love,” you say, which he does. “And Rogers, this might not go the way we want, I want you on high alert.” There’s a shift in your voice between your request to him and when you talk to Steve, the authority clear as you order Steve. 

Moving further into the market, the ‘breaking news’ grows louder and clearer. Loki starts to believe maybe Wilson was right, but he doesn’t want to let that show. He keeps his head down, hides a little as you stop at various booths to buy something. However, at one point, you don’t stop to buy something. 

The man behind the counter, filled with flyers, looks you up and down. A half-smile tugs at the side of his lips and then he beckons you closer. “Tonight, after dusk, they’re gonna take control of all the ships docked. Been doin’ the last three days.”

You nod. “You got any information on whose orders they’re working’ on?”

“Kind Odin’s.”

A frown colors your face, and Loki’s thoughts wander where yours do. “He has no authority here, how?” 

“He has a deal with king Laufey,” Loki whispers, right as the guy says the same. However, the guy adds one thing Loki didn’t know; “rumor has it that the prince is really Laufey’s son, too, but both kings want to keep that a secret.”

In a swift hand shake, you slip the guy a few coins. You move back to walk next to Loki, Steve walking a few steps behind―Loki isn’t sure whether that’s to assess threats better or if he doesn’t feel comfortable walking closer to the two of you. 

“What do you think?” you ask, voice soft. 

Loki shakes his head, though he realizes that might not be too easy for you to spot with his hood on. “It does explain many things.”

You take his hand in yours, intertwining your fingers and give it a squeeze. He squeezes back and peeks out from under the hood to send you a smile, which you return by tiptoeing and pressing your lips to his. 

It doesn’t matter what the rumors say, or that he’s being hunted back to his home. He’s with you, and everything is worth it. 

And, though he doesn’t want to admit it, meeting Steve hasn’t been so bad either. The man has, for some reason, made Loki feel things he’s only ever felt for you. He can’t explain it, and his feelings for you are there more than ever, but Steve is constantly at the back of his thoughts, creating the same fluttering as you do. 


	6. Day Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This part as SMUT. And it's not really that much plot based so if you're not into it, you can skip. But it's really light smut and more implied than anything else, i think. heavy make out session tho, and a lot of teasing. i think. idk

You drag a hand through your hair and ruffle it. Loki trails his eyes over your bare chest and the untied pants you quickly dragged on when someone knocked on your door. Your shirt still lies discarded somewhere in the cabin―Loki can’t remember exactly where it went when he dragged it off―and as you tie a knot on the pants, you walk around to try and find it. 

“You don’t _have_ to get dressed,” he says, eyes dancing over your back. It’s ridden with scars, scars he has traced many times during long nights in the dark, though he has never gotten the story behind any. 

“And who are you to judge that?” you ask him and turn around, shirt in hand and a smile playing on your lips. 

Loki rolls onto his back, staring up at the ceiling. “The best one, knowing that the day can be spent in here, just you and me, _having fun_.” He turns his head and gives you a mischievous smile. 

You pull the shirt over your head. “Don’t worry, darling, I won’t be long.” The smile you send him has him press his lips together, which makes you laugh. “I could give you a little somethin’.” You walk over to him, placing a chaste kiss on his lips.

He hums, searches your sparkling eyes for that _something_. 

Your hand traces up his exposed leg as you place another kiss against his lips. “Don’t―worry―about―it,” you mumble in between kisses. 

His heart beats faster as you stop tracing his leg up the inside of his thigh. Your lips trace a way to his ear, and with a voice you’ve used many times before that always has the same reaction, you whisper, “ _I have a surprise for you._ ” 

And then your warmth leaves his body. He watches as you leave, eyes trained on your butt and loving the sight, but his heart stings as you open the cabin door, leaving him to sulk in solitude.

You wink and blow him a kiss as you walk out. To Loki’s surprise, you don’t close the door. It’s not that much of a surprise when Steve arrives in the doorway, stoic expression on his face as he walks in, closes the door and takes in the view in front of him. 

Steve’s eyes roam the visual of Loki’s body; bare chest, long legs stretched out over the sheet covering his private parts. Loki smirks at the little hiccup he can see in Steve’s expression, the man’s eyes still roaming his body. 

“Are you my surprise?” he asks. 

Steve’s eyes shoot up to meet Loki’s, and he gulps. “You look happy?” It’s formed more as a question than a statement, but Loki suspects it has to do with the nervousness in Steve’s voice rather than being an actual question. 

Loki nods. “You’re a pretty handsome surprise, but aesthetically speaking, there are more handsome men than you on this ship.” 

Steve frowns and parts his lips as if speaking but he keeps them shut.

“Yet, of all the men on this ship, you are the only one that has piqued my interest.” He smiles at Steve, pulling his hands to rest behind his head and visibly enjoying the look on the first mate’s face; a mix of surprise, nervousness and interest. 

“So, you don’t feel this is anything wrong?” 

Loki’s brows crease together. “Wrong? She has been with you, hasn’t she? Possibly others even?” He holds the man’s eyes. “And if I’m not wrong, she sent you here?”

Steve nods. “She did. Because I asked.” He takes a step closer. “I didn’t expect her to say yes, but I did expect her to ask you.”

The smirk Loki had is replaced by an amused smile. “Oh, I believe she knew my answer already.”

And that has Steve relax. His tense shoulders slump, his nervous expression is replaced by a smile, and he moves to sit down on the small bed. “We have a lot of time before she comes back, want to make the most of it?” 

“Very much.” 

\---

Loki’s back is to the door when he hears it creak open. His lips locked with Steve’s, and he smiles as he turns his head a little to find you smiling amusedly at the scene in front of you. 

“Having fun?” you ask as you close the door. 

An arm snakes around Loki’s torso, turning him so he falls into the crook of Steve’s arm. Steve smiles up at you. “Care to join?” 

“You sure you want me intruding? I know of plenty of things I can do that does not include interrupting your alone time.” Despite your words, the smile plays on your lips and your pants are off in one swift moment. Loki licks his lips and in his peripheral vision he can see Steve take a deep breath. You drag your shirt over your head. “But I guess I can stay, if you insist.”

Laughter erupts from all three of you, and space is made for you on the little bed between the two men. Loki guides your lips to his as you’ve laid down, because no matter how much he’s enjoyed Steve, he’s missed you. 

You smile into the kiss, tucking your hand into the long strands of his hair and lightly tugging on them―years of knowing one another gives way for easy pleasure. Loki makes a low sound at the feel and creates a little opening for you to slip your tongue in. 

His body greets the action by arching closer to you. Your tongue in his mouth feeling like the water he’d been longing for in the past five days, as if you filled up the thirst that had gotten him close to dehydration. Loki’s heart pounds, his body growing with warmth at the closeness to you and his nose fills with the salt-water smell that comes off of you. 

Disappointment shows on his face when you draw away, but the shine in your eyes make up for it. Your hand still tugs at the strands of his hair, still creates a deep rumbling feeling in the lower part of his gut. He turns his gaze up to Steve, whose peppering your neck with kisses, hand tracing along the curves of your body. You bend your neck to give the man better access, and Loki smiles at the sight. 

And, in another attempt at dominance, takes Steve’s chin in his and guides their lips close. He lets the man take control of the kiss, feeling the difference between you and the first man. Where you’re soft, demanding and submissive to his steering, Steve is rough, dominant and urgent. Steve’s kisses are far hungrier than yours, and there’s something Loki likes about both of them that he may compare but he would never know which he likes better. 

As Steve takes a hold of the back of Loki’s head, changing your slender fingers for his rougher ones, Loki lets his hands roam Steve’s chest. His hands glides down, across and stops where the lining of his pants would be if the man had been wearing any. Steve’s breath hitch at the graceful touch, unlocking their lips to give Loki half a glare at the teasing. 

Loki laughs and finds your hand, guiding it to where his had been. Steve tenses at the sensation, his mind gone from the kiss he’d shared with Loki. But there’s a glint in your eyes as you lean up and put a chaste kiss to the first mate’s lips. Your hands continue to tease, never going further than a little touch here and there, until you trace kisses down the man’s chest. 

Even Loki arches his body when you grace Steve’s dick with your tongue; there has been few times you haven’t teased him in the same way. A moan comes from Steve, and as you keep your teasing, only licking around with a smirk, Loki traces kisses over Steve’s body, meeting his lips when the man places a hand at the back of Loki’s neck and demands it. 

There are definite perks to a pirate ship. Definite pleasure to find few places elsewhere. Every decision Loki’s ever made has led to this moment, a moment that defines you, Steve and him, and that he will cherish forever. 

A moment he hopes lasts, and that repeats itself. 

Because there is nothing he wants more than to please the two people that have come to mean the most to him. To please you in every way he can, to please Steve in every way he can, and to receive the pleasure you both bring. 

The taste of Steve on his lips as you kiss him, the taste of you on his lips as Steve kisses him, and the taste of himself from both of you, is more than he could ever ask for. 

_He’s made his choice._


	7. Day Seven/Epilogue

Loki doesn’t react until he hears the crack. He’d heard a few extra splashes before, something that seemed a little off, but he hadn’t given it much thought―mainly because he was a little preoccupied. 

But the sound of a crack, of splintering wood, has all three of your heads shoot up. Loki looks to the door that slams open by a rush of wind. The sight beyond the door has chills crawl up his spine. 

On the deck, he can see a long, pink arm with suction cups. It snakes across the deck, a tight grip around one of the masts, and before either of them can react, it’s cracked and the long wooden stick falls to the other side of the ship. 

You’re already out of the bed, pants pulled on and shirt on its way over your head. You find your sword on the floor and pick it. Spearing a last glance at Steve and Loki, you walk out the door and charge. Water spills onto the deck, bathing you and the little crew Loki can see. 

He scrambles to his own clothes, pulling only on his pants before rushing out to help. Steve follows right behind. 

The tentacle is attached to a long body in the same pink color. Out on the deck, Loki notices other tentacles twisted around the ship. Both masts have fallen, there’s a crack in the hull and Loki has no problem knowing the ship will sink. 

His eyes flicker between the crew standing there. He sees faces he hasn’t taken a good look at before, and he sees the crew he’s gotten to know. Peter stands with Stephen and Stark, huge eyes looking at the creature destroying their ship. Romanoff and Clint stand together with light orangy hair color (reminding of the color leaves get when they fall). The two he knows stand with swords raised, but the oranged haired has glowing hands in a shade of red. 

Loki finds Barnes and Wilson at the helm, Wilson trying his best to steer but it looks as if he has given up. Barnes has his sword raised and he’s hacking away at one of the creature’s tentacles. 

It’s the size of the creatures that has surprised Loki the most. The size is that of myth, of tales told to feed children lies so as to not do something, the size of monsters. 

He never thought it existed, much less that he would meet it, but he knows standing in front of it, that they have met the Kraken. 

And, based on the tales he’s heard, there is very little chance anyone will make it out alive. He makes the few steps needed to get to you. The slight touch of your arm has you turn around and your eyes soften as you gaze land on him. 

“We can’t fight it.” 

You shake your head. “I don’t care. I have to try.”

“It would be better for everyone to use one of the rowboats to get away whilst it’s occupied with the ship.” Loki tries for a pleading look. “I can’t have you die on me.”

“I won’t die.” A smile flickers across your lips. “But see it this way. I will fight, you get as many as you can aboard the rowboats. As soon as they’re ready, I will be there.”

Loki’s heart twists, a thread snapping because of how reckless it is to fight a sea monster of that size, but he knows who you are. You might not be able to kill it, or survive in the attempt, but you will defend your ship and your crew until the end of the line. 

He nods and presses a chaste kiss to your lips. If it’s the last one, he doesn’t care. Nor does he let you say anything as he rushes over and kisses Steve once. He whispers, “for luck,” and walks away before the man can say anything else. 

Loki stops by Stephen, Stark and Peter. “We need the rowboats. Get as many on board as possible and get away whilst the monster is busy with the ship.”

Stephen nods in agreement, but Stark looks skeptical. “Did she agree? Did she say to make sure everyone got on board first, then get her?” 

“Yes.” Tears prickle at the side of Loki’s eyes, but he will not grieve in advance. “She did, but I do not intend to let her die. Steve will fight by her side, so will Barnes and Romanoff and Clint, and the witch with them. But we will secure the rowboats from being crushed now so that there is a chance for survival.”

“Tony.” Stephen’s voice is gentle. “He’s right.”

And so they get to it. Peter helps Loki get the boats in the water. They will have to jump into it and climb aboard eventually, but they all agreed it’s for the better. They all agreed that would be the only way to survive seeing as getting the crew on board first would result in the boats being crushed. 

Several incidents include ducking and Loki shooting vispers of green from his hands. Everytime he gets in a shot, the tentacle retrieves itself. Only to come back again moments later. 

They have three boats in the water, and there are no more. Stark and Stephen have already begun to tell the crew, many of which jumped into the water before there were boats to get into. Loki looks to the crew he’s come to know. You and Steve fight against the same tentacle side by side, stabbing it every chance you get. 

But Loki knows it’s to no avail. And so do you because the look you send Steve is pleading, it’s hurt, and it’s angry. Steve replies with a reassuring smile, a smile that has Loki’s gut wrench because he knows that won’t help. 

Nevertheless of the outcome, Loki tells Peter to jump into the water and moves to get to you. Romanoff, the witch and Clint see that he’s done. They make one last hit and run off and jump into the water. Barnes and Wilson do the same, diving straight from where they stand. 

Loki can still see litters of crew around the boat. Red water runs down along the deck, groans from men that cannot get up can be heard as a chorus around him and mixes along with the rush of the wind and the continuing splintering of wood. 

He gets there too late. The tentacle has a grip around you and brushes Steve to the side so that the man crashes into the side of the cabin. Blood rushes from the first man’s arm. He doesn’t move. 

“You go for her, I’ll get Steve.” 

Loki turns to find the witch. She nods at him, understanding in her eyes and in the next second she’s using her magic to move Steve with her to the boats. He thanks her, and he will thank her more if they survive this. 

And then there’s you. Screaming at the top of your lungs, cutting into the tentacle with your sword, but it doesn’t seem to do anything to it. The creature seems unaffected. Loki can see the strain it takes, can see that your stabs lack in strength. He conjurs the little strength he has, vispers of green smoke billowing out of his hands and reaching you. He makes a cut, it goes through the tentacle and blood squirts from it (or what he guesses is blood). 

You’re falling, and falling fast. 

The creature has turned and it takes Loki a second to see that if you make the fall, you won’t make more as the creature has its mouth open, ready to devour the food that’s about to land in it. 

His heart beats in his chest. Concentrating, he does the one thing he tries to do as little as he can. He shapeshifts. Loki hasn’t given it much thought, but he makes it so that a pair of claws dig into your shoulder. The grip isn’t good, and by your cry of pain he knows it hurts but he knows it was his only option. 

The creature he formed into is only so strong. He releases you where the Kraken can’t notice and shift back to himself. Together, you swim to a boat. Only a few people are in them, but the ones that matter seem to be. 

Stark helps you in, and as Loki gets in himself, he sees Stephen treating Steve’s arm. As Loki catches his breath, his eyes meet with yours. You smile at him, thankful. 

He smiles back. “I’m staying,” he says, which elicits a small laugh and a roll of your eyes. 

If you can make it alive from a sea creature only told about in myths, you can survive anything. Loki doesn’t want to be somewhere you’re not. Seeing you almost die is hard, but not being able to stop it because he isn’t there, is worse. 

#####  **EPILOGUE**

The ship looms above them. It’s smaller than  _ Vicious Strom _ , looks more worn, but you’ve all agreed that it looks perfect. 

It’s been a few days since your ship was crushed to bits by a sea monster. Your shoulder is healing, Steve’s arm is healing and the few of the crew that made it out have never been happier. 

Light dances around you. 

You walk aboard the ship first, being its captain. Steve follows after and then everyone rushes on. Stark keeps mumbling under his breath about fixes that need to be made, but even he has a smile on his face. 

“Welcome aboard  _ Naglfar _ , everyone.” You smile and look at your crew with open arms. “Our new home.”

A cheer erupts from the crowd, and Loki walks to give you a kiss. He places himself between you and Steve, gives the man a kiss on the cheek, and smiles. 

For the first time, he knows he’s made the right decision. He has a new family, and he could have never asked for a better one. 


End file.
